Kris Saknussemm made a splash with his first novel, Zanesville, and Private Midnight, his second book, solidifies his reputation as an edgy, creative and blackly comic writer. Private Midnight’s themes and styles morph from noir to supernatural thriller to philosophical treatise on gender politics, and while not each incarnation is equally successful, the writing is at all times a joy. This man loves language. He loves words. I couldn’t stop myself from reading some lines out loud, and that alone puts this book on my recommended list.
The story opens in fine noir style, with world weary battered police detective Birch Ritter trying to connect the dots on a couple of murders no one else sees as murders, while struggling with the temptation to visit an address his former, now estranged, partner gave him without explanation. Ritter suspects the address will lead him to a woman of pleasure, but he has no idea what shadow lands she occupies. Naturally, he can’t help but find out.
Ritter is a man with secrets himself. The first part of the novel deals with self-sabotage, and the line between light and shadows, particularly our own shadows we’d rather not illuminate. The mysterious Genevieve says her business is shadows and from his first visit to her, Ritter is on a journey to his past, reclaiming bits of himself he’s buried over the years. At the same time, he appears to be losing other parts of himself, and this blurring of boundaries between apparently oppositional definitions of identity is a continuing thread of the novel and its most successful theme.
The language in this part of the book is delicious. Waking up after a stormy night, the detective says, "The storm had cleared the air but not my mind or the inside of my apartment." Ritter’s voice is so lushly noir it’s almost a parody of itself, and it is often funny, no matter how dark or twisted the subject. And the subject matter is dark and twisted, dipping into unconventional sexual practices that both fascinate with their ability to redefine and repel with their violence. It’s a tribute to the author’s power with words I was often laughing even when I was horrified by what I was reading, which, as a cat lover, I often was. Make of that what you will and be warned.
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